


all sorts of shapes i bet you can make

by orphan_account



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, Genderbending, Oral Sex, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 22:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3545987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>from twitter: "genderbent iwaoi where oikawa-chan presses a hand to her mouth to try to stay quiet and this is literally the only time iwaizumi-chan encourages her to be loud"</p>
            </blockquote>





	all sorts of shapes i bet you can make

**Author's Note:**

> title from the arctic monkeys song 'stop the world (cause i wanna get off with you). cobbled together after starting with the tweet "gendbent iwaoi where the only time iwaizumi-chan /likes/ oikawa’s voice is when she’s pressing her tongue against her though her underwear" ha ha haaaaa

She toes off her shoes at the door and calls out, “We’re home!” to no response. Harumi tucks her house keys back in her bag and doesn’t wait for Tooru to follow her upstairs to her room, thinks about doing her Japanese lit reading first--or maybe her science homework, instead. Tooru makes herself at home too easily.

Harumi ignores Tooru’s chatter while she winds a purple elastic around her hair. _Iwa-chan, do you think little Yahabacchi-chan will learn how to spike? Iwa-chan, why won’t Makki-chan loan me her math notes?_ Harumi watches Tooru gather an errant lock of hair off her shoulder and take a deep breath, probably to start another round of _this class is just unfair, Iwa-chan, I’m an A student!_ She makes a split-second decision between _I’m too pretty for academic hardship_ and the prospect of getting her homework done before her parents come home--but this answer’s too easy. Tooru’s voice would give her a headache, at this rate.

Harumi drops her pencil on the ground. She crawls on the floor and ignores the pencil by her chair.

She stays under the table until Tooru starts up again, listens to the jump in pitch as she pushes apart Tooru’s legs. “And it’s not like I don’t pay attention in class-- _Iwa-chan?_ ” Harumi grins at the surprise and leans in until her breath puffs hot against sensitive skin. Tooru makes a strangled noise in the back of her throat. Good.

She spreads her legs wider--she was always such a quick study--until Harumi can sit even closer. Harumi presses a line of kisses on her thighs and feels her tense up from her touch. “You can keep talking,” she says, and Tooru’s laugh comes off strained, from a dry throat. Harumi presses her tongue against the seam of Tooru’s underwear and lets her spit soak the fabric. Tooru is always so _sensitive_.

But really, even her breathing is loud--like she’s run a dozen laps--loud but regular. Tooru claps her palms against her mouth to muffle her voice when Harumi does it again, tongue pushing the rough seam against her folds.

This is the kind of noise that Harumi likes best, the whimper straight from her throat that wavers in pitch and peters off, ragged and slow. She can’t reach up far enough to pull her hands away, to hear that sound again, and instead rakes blunt fingernails across the pale muscle of Tooru’s inner thighs, follows the line of kisses she’d laid down. Tooru’s hands come flying down to grip the edges of her seat. “Do that again,” she pants, and her voice is breathier than usual. “ _Please_ , Iwa-chan, do that again.”

Harumi presses her index, middle, and ring fingers against the flesh of her folds, making sure to drag the fabric seam across the hood of her clit. Tooru’s underwear is so much damper--and when Harumi presses her mouth against her panties, Tooru’s hands shake. She sucks in deep breaths, strong and rhythmic, and listens to her girlfriend choke off another moan.

“Up, come on.” Harumi’s fingers yank her underwear down as Tooru lifts her hips. She leaves them on the floor next to her abandoned pencil. “You always get so red.” Tooru’s voice fades in a strained giggle. “You’re gonna have to go home without those, I guess. Or take a pair of mine.”

Before Tooru can even answer, Harumi rakes her nails across the taut flesh of her thighs again. They leave streaks on her skin--fading to a pretty, angry red--and Tooru doesn’t even bother to hide her voice. She throws her head back and lets out a little scream when Harumi presses the pads of her fingers against the lines, flicks the tip of her tongue against her hood.

(Six weeks since she’d figured out how much Tooru liked being tortured like this; six weeks since she’d seen how much she liked to mix pleasure with pain; since Harumi saw how wet she got after running for miles, until it hurt to breathe, nevermind move.) She keeps at it until Tooru looks like she’s wearing high heels made of air--when her legs shake with the effort of staying perched atop arched feet, Harumi stops to lift her legs on her shoulders.

Tooru pushes herself up on the chair and whines--not any litany of complaints, but a sound squeezed out between the vowels of her name. “Iwa-chaaan--” but she shuts up as soon as Harumi puts her mouth back over her. 

She pinches Tooru’s folds open, tonguing her hood in broad licks. She lets the taste of her settle in her mouth, nudges up her clit with her thumb. Harumi’s so fucking wet she wants to move to a bed and finish comfortably--but it’s good to get off like this, too. The idea of homework is so far from her mind she’s nearly forgotten why she’d dropped her pencil in the first place.

Her fingers are so slick it’s hard to keep Tooru spread open--so Harumi just flicks her tongue on her hood again, keeps at it until she grows impatient for more. It’s always easy to tell: she makes a frustrated little groan, angling her hips to push back her hood, every time. If Harumi could see her girlfriend’s face, it’d probably look something like that straight-lipped focus just before a particularly strong serve. Tooru rolls up her hips and lets her spine arch with it in a single, fluid motion, the movement forcing down her clit on her tongue. Harumi breathes evenly and anchors Tooru down, lets her grind against her tongue in lazy, liquid circles.

With every drag of her on Harumi’s mouth, she makes a breathless noise that Harumi uses to mark her pace. Tooru’s legs are heavy on her shoulders--but Harumi likes the weight, when Tooru leverages her position to pull her even closer. “Fuck,” she gasps, and it’s the first word that she’s said since Harumi had even taken her panties off.

She teases her open and strokes in two fingers, curls them up. Tooru grinds down against her mouth again and clenches around her fingers. “Harumi--” Her voice cracks.

Tooru is so soft, so hot, she’ll probably scorch Harumi in the process of coming down from her high. Harumi props up her girlfriend while she arches down into her mouth, sweat building on her skin. Her chin is dripping--but it’s okay, she doesn’t care as long as Tooru fucking comes.

Harumi twirls her tongue around her clit and lets the pads of her fingertips drag inside her, _hard_ \--and the reaction is practically clockwork. Tooru clamps down on Harumi’s fingers and shouts when she repeats it, over and over and over, until she sounds like she’s about to shatter. She pins her down and lets her tension snap, Tooru’s hips shifting in tiny circles on Harumi’s mouth until she stops moving.

She aches between her legs and pushes Tooru’s sweaty knees off her at last. Tooru slumps in her seat, boneless and grinning, when Harumi finally comes back up from underneath the table. “Wipe your mouth, Iwa-chan,” she manages between huffs--but she looks too sated to even chide her properly.

"Shut up," Harumi replies, and fumbles in her bag for a handkerchief.


End file.
